Yellow Brick Road
by Color Me Cory
Summary: The prophecy has been fulfilled. Oz has her guardian: The Brown Haired Warrior. And she is here to fight for Oz's freedom. (Complete Re-write of my original 'Yellow Brick Road' story with additions of characters and new plots.)
1. Dorothy

Dorothy

1

The clock wall slowly ticked forward. The teacher, Mrs. Balm, seemed to have been talking for what seemed like an eternity. Seventeen year old Dorothy Gale sat at her desk at Clifton high. Her teacher, Mrs. Balm was discussing the three branches of government. A subject not too many of the students seemed interested in. Dorothy was slumped in her desk performing the amazing rubber pencil trick. She glared at the clock and it's glacial pace. She dropped her pencil onto her desk carelessly and decided to see what her fellow classmates were doing. Keith Johnston was staring at the back of Katie Newburg's neck. He was no doubt playing connect the dots with her freckles. Keith traced the air with his pencil with one eye shut. His mouth moved silently as he decided what he just had discovered. He once told Dorothy in Bio lab that he had found several different constellations on the back of Katie's neck. After which Dorothy prayed the seating arrangement stayed the way it was. She didn't want Keith playing connect the dots with on her neck or god forbid, taking whiffs of her hair. Dorothy looked back up to the clock, the bell was going to ring in two minutes. Her heart fluttered. It was Friday, the gateway to a long and lazy weekend.

Mrs. Balm had finished one sentence and was about to begin another when the bell cut her off. Dorothy jumped from her desk and grabbed her army bag. People poured out of the classroom door and into the hall eager to start their weekends. Dorothy followed suit but before she could make it out Mrs. Balm called out to her.  
"Do you think you have taken on sudden invisibility Miss Gale?"

Dorothy stopped and sighed.

"Unfortunately I haven't, ma'am."

Mrs. Balm tidied her desk as Dorothy gloomily strolled over to her.

"Your last paper," she paused, "were you trying?" Mrs. Balm tiredly finished.

"It certainly felt like it," Dorothy replied.

The teacher shook her head.

"Dorothy, sarcasm doesn't get you into college, hard work and good grades do; both of which you're lacking. If you don't bring up your grade I'm going to have to fail you," Mrs. Balm sadly informed her. She handed Dorothy her last paper. A dismal red number was marked at the top.

Dorothy felt queasy just looking at it.  
"I'm going to assign you some extra credit work and let you re-write that. If you can get that done, I'll pass you. Otherwise, see you in summer school."

Dorothy shuttered at the thought.

"That's what I thought. I'll see you Monday, Miss Gale."

As she walked out of the classroom she felt tempted to crumple up her sorry excuse for an essay and toss it in the waste bin. Instead she opened up her bag and tucked it away to be forgotten until the following week.

Dorothy made her way down the busy halls, navigating through the many students and out the large doors. The sky was a cloudless azure, assuring it would be a cool evening. Dorothy tucked a chocolate brown lock behind her ear and made her way into the busy courtyard. A group of kids were comfortably seated beneath the school's large oak tree. Amongst them was Lucy, Dorothy's closest friend. Dorothy strolled over to the shade of the tree as Lucy peered over her sunglasses.

"How's it going, Dork-othy?"

Her black hair was left loose as always and in her lap sat her cell phone. She was in the middle of writing a text message while sitting cross legged in a mini-skirt. Typical behavior for her.  
Dorothy dropped to the grass and tossed her bag to the side.

"Where were you during fifth period? Mr. Benson's head was extra bald today."

"It was too nice of a day to spend it looking at that man's—what I am sure is hereditary balding." Lucy replied.

"You're passing how?" Dorothy asked laggardly.

Lucy just shrugged and leaned back against the tree.  
"Wanna go to the lake tonight? Daniel Collins and the rest of the football goons are having some sort of rager. Plus, I hear the lake is extra lake-y this time of year."

"I'll pass. I have to re-write my paper," Dorothy declined.

Lucy rested her arms atop of her head and sighed.

"Dorothy, I'm afraid if we don't pull you out of this socially awkward stage you'll end up like principle Gulch; bitter, alone, and possibly a lesbian."

Dorothy chuckled and picked up her bag to leave.

"I have to, I refuse to spend my summer here. Besides, Gran will have my ass. You know how she is."

"It's your loss, Dorothy. You're missing out on seeing half the football team vomit all over one another."

"I thought you were trying to persuade me." Dorothy reminded her friend.

"Not to worry, the pictures will be on Facebook. I'll see to that. Don't work too hard."

The two said their goodbyes and Dorothy headed for her car.

2

The little blue car pulled into the front yard of the Gale's farm sending spooked chickens in every direction. The Gale's house was quaint; a slice of Americana with green shutters, a screen door, and a swing and rocking chair on the porch. A few yards away stood a large barn which housed some horses, pigs, and a dairy cow. The chicken coop sat off to the side of it, door open so the chickens could roam freely during the day. They ate the bugs that loved to eat Emily Gale's flowers. Dorothy lived here her entire life. Her mother, Elizabeth, passed away when she was only a baby and she never met her father. So her grandparents raised her like she was theirs and she loved them dearly for it. Emily Gale stood at the clothes line in the front yard, hanging a fresh load of laundry. Her gray hair, which she stopped dyeing at Dorothy's request, was pulled into a large loose braid. Her face carried the universal look of a grandmother. Emily Gale had indeed aged well, and boy was she grateful. Dorothy got out of her car, grabbing her bag before closing the door.

"Hey, Gran," Dorothy greeted. She had called her that since she was five.

The smell of the fresh laundry wafted through the air. A gentle breeze assured the sheets would be dry in no time.

"How did it go today?" Emily said picking up the empty laundry basket.

Dorothy dropped her bag in it and took it from her Grandmother.

"School is school," she answered.

They climbed the stairs to the porch and went inside.

The house was decorated accordingly to a grandmothers taste. Pictures of baby Dorothy hung on the walls among photos of other family members long since gone. Including pictures of Dorothy's grandfather, Henry, in his Naval uniform and her Grandmother-baring a striking resemblance to Dorothy-standing in a field of sunflowers. A picture of Dorothy's mother was always kept in Dorothy's room. Above her crib as a baby and now on her nightstand as a teen.

The two strolled into the kitchen. Dorothy plopped the wash basket next to the pantry and headed to the table. She sat down and dropped her head onto her arms. Her Grandmother pulled a pitcher filled to the brim with ice cold tea.

"Do you want some tea?" she asked.

She knew that she herself was going to drink at least a glass and a half. In just the little time she was hanging the laundry her mouth had dried up. It was something she was quite used to being a native of this dry climate.

She finished pouring a glass of tea and pushed it over to Dorothy.

"So, tell me about your day?" Emily asked.

Dorothy lifted her head and sipped her tea.

"I have to re-write my paper if that's what you want to know."

Emily sighed.

"Honey, I thought you were going to trying harder."

Dorothy fidgeted with her glass.

"I am Gran. I just…" she trailed off.

"Dorothy, your grades are slipping in most of your classes. Well, all except gym. But you can't make a career out of Archery."

"Tell that to Robin Hood," Dorothy retorted.

Dorothy had been on Clifton High's archery team since ninth grade. It was the one thing she enjoyed at a school and she was actually very good at it. She took first in the prior years regional championship. Her grandfather beamed with pride when they returned with the trophy and it was all he could talk about anytime they ran into a family friend while in town. Archery grounded Dorothy. The only time she felt at ease was when she had a bow in her hand and an eye focused on a target.

"Surely you don't want to go to summer school. You have one more year kiddo, you gotta keep at it," Her Grandmother urged.

"Mrs. Balm is giving me extra credit and said I'll pass if I can produce something worth reading," She assured her Grandmother.

"Good. I know you've got it in you."

Emily smiled at her Granddaughter who was resting her chin on the table.

"I need to finish this laundry if we're going to Hank and Cynthia's tonight," Emily said getting up from the table.

"And I still need to pull your Grandpa from that tractor and get him to clean up." Emily ran a hand down Dorothy's hair lovingly and flashed her a wink and a smile when she looked up. Dorothy suddenly felt guilty for giving the woman so much grief when it came to school. Emily walked out of the kitchen carrying hr laundry basket, ready to start another load.

Dorothy continued to rest her head on the table. She watched the condensation run down the side of her glass. She thought about school and how much she felt out of place. This was common for kids her age, she knew that. But this felt different. Almost like she didn't belong...anywhere. Dorothy was so deep in thought that she didn't even notice her Grandfather walk in through the backdoor. His hands were black with engine grease. A tattered rag hung from the pocket of his overalls. It was stained with the same black goop that covered his hands and whatever mechanical contraption he was working on.

"Hey there, Jellybean."

He called her this from the time she could walk.

Dorothy smiled and went back to staring at her glass.

"Long day I take it?" Henry asked as he wiped his hands on the tattered rag.

"Not really, just thinking."

Ben chuckled.

"I thought I saw smoke coming out of those ears," He joked.

Dorothy pulled her head off the table.

"Gramps, have you ever felt like you just don't belong?"

Henry took a seat at the table, careful to keep his hands on his coveralls and not on the table. Emily would have his head.

"I'm sure we've all felt that way at one point or another. I lived in the city for a few months before I met your Grandma. I never felt so out of place in my life."

Dorothy took a drink of her tea and thought.

"School must be getting to me." She speculated.

"You need to clear your head. Why not take Sable out for a ride? I know you'd both enjoy it."

Dorothy nodded, thinking it wasn't the answer but could certainly help. She finished her tea and placed her glass in the sink.

"Jellybean," Henry called to her before she stepped out the door, "don't worry. You'll find your place. And when you do, it'll make more of an impact than you know."

Dorothy smiled in return to return her Grandfather's kindness. He always knew what to say to make her feel better.

3

Dorothy opened the gate to the large pasture and Sable, a large brown horse with a dark mane, cantered through. Henry had been right, the ride certainly cleared her mind. The feeling was still there but she could at least think clearly now. The feeling had always been there but It was only recently that it truly made itself known. Dorothy closed the gate behind her led her horse over to the barn. Sable was one of the two horses the Gale's owned and Dorothy's favorite. The other, Big Ben, was a large draw horse who didn't like to be ridden very much. She had grown close to her in the few years they had her and she was quite the rider now. Sable was gentle and obedient, the perfect riding horse. Not to mention she could run like the wind. Dorothy swept her wind-blown hair to the side and locked Sable into her pen. She threw a large helping of green hay into the pen and stroked the horse gently. Sable chewed contently and gazed up at Dorothy.

"I wish I could be as easily pleased as you are. A good run and mountain of hay is all it takes." Dorothy gave the horse one last pat on the side and walked out the barn. The sun had already begun to set as she made her way to the house.

Henry and Emily were coming out the front door to meet Dorothy. They were each dressed in their finest, ready to meet some close friends for dinner.

"Are you two taking off?" Dorothy asked as she climbed the stairs.

"Are you sure you don't want to come honey? Hank and Cynthia would love to see you," Emily invited.

Dorothy shook her head declining.

"I really want to get that paper taken care of. Besides, I am worn out from riding. You two have fun."

Emily smiled and kissed her Granddaughter on the cheek.

"I left you some roast and potatoes in the fridge. Put it in the oven and not the microwave, the meat will dry out," Emily warned her in a motherly tone.

"We'll be back at eight."

Dorothy nodded as usual and headed for the house.

"Dorothy," Henry called to her before climbing in the old farm truck, "remember: Big impact..." He reminded her.

Dorothy waved with a smile and entered the house.

The two pulled out of the driveway, arguing as they always did, unaware it would be the last time they would see their Granddaughter.

4

Dorothy tried to work on her paper. A blank page glowed on her laptop screen, the blinking cursor taunting her.

She had already eaten dinner so she had no excuse to get up and knew if she didn't start now it would never get done.

Her fingers danced on the keys but not a single word was produced. She rolled over onto her back, meeting the ceiling with a blank stare. Her head was filled with a fog that clouded her thought process. There had to be more than this; history papers and drunken get-togethers at the lake. When everyone else around her was itching to go out and live it up, she could show nothing but apathy. Where was her passion for life the young are branded as having? Feeling an itch in her hand, Dorothy scratched at it, examining the creases in her palm as if she could read them and find the answers to life's questions. She traced them up and down and side to side.

_They look like pathways and roads..._

"I see... yes, in your future, a failure to get anything done in a timely manner."

Dorothy sighed exasperatedly and pulled herself up.

"Maybe I need some TV to inspire me, " She told herself.

In no time she was sprawled out on the floral print sofa in the living room channel surfing like the wind.

"How the hell can there be over a thousand channels and nothing on?" She complained.

She landed on the weather channel and tossed the remote on the coffee table.

She wondered if this was a divine sign that she should get back to her _paper._ Dorothy sighed and pulled herself off the sofa. Maybe it wasn't too late to change her mind about the lake. She pulled her phone out and started a text to Lucy.

Her fingers jumped from button to button as she typed. And that's when she noticed it, the sound of the wind chimes.

At first they rang softly as they always did, the gentle evening breeze making its presence known on the porch.

But soon it grew louder, and louder, until the ringing had become a violet racket.

Dorothy got up from the couch and tucked her phone into her pocket. Listening, she approached the door curiously. Her hand began itching again and scratched at it reflexively. The front door was open leaving the screen door as a barrier from the bugs. She could hear the wind rushing through the branches of the large elm tree out front.

She walked out on to the porch and was met with forceful gusts. Dorothy grabbed the noisy wind chime and set it on the floor of the porch. The silence was a relief but now she could hear what she didn't want to hear. The sound of a freight train speeding down the tracks, the all familiar sound of a tornado.

Dorothy bolted across the porch and over the railing. Her feet meeting the ground, she took off at top speed, headed for the barn. She peered inside to see Sable and Big Ben staring back at her on the verge of hysteria.

"Easy guys…" She assured them.

Dorothy locked the barn door tight and bolted back to the house. This wasn't the barn's first tornado. The farm had seen a few and always came out on top. Still, she said a silent prayer for her animals and went inside.

"What is with my hand, damn it!"

Her hand continued to itch almost incessantly now.

The TV was still broadcasting the weather channel. Where there should have been red letters and flashing warnings was a gentleman in a suit gesturing over a digital map.  
"Cool temperatures for the evening with a slight chance of AM showers…" he predicted.

Dorothy stood panting in the living room, confusion washing over her.

"What?" she gasped.

Suddenly the power flashed and then went out. Thunder made Dorothy jerk her head around to the front door. Distant lightening flashed to reveal a large spinning funnel approaching the farm.

Quickly thinking and short on time, Dorothy sprinted down the hall to her bedroom, narrowly averting a collision with the door frame.

She opened her closet door and pulled boxes and shoes out before locking herself safely inside.

"Where are the sirens?" she asked out loud. Her voice cracked as she was on the verge of tears.

"Why didn't I go to the storm cellar?!"

Dorothy glanced at the closet door that shuttered and rattled, as she clawed at the palm of her had; feeling as tough it was on fire.

The air filled with a loud roar and the sound of glass shattering. Dorothy felt short of breath as the air was sucked from the house. She became lightheaded and dizzy as blood rushed to her head. Before fainting she would remember feeling her stomach drop as her little farm house was torn from its foundation and lifted into the sky.


	2. Oz

Oz

1

It took a moment but eventually Dorothy was able to focus on the beam of light shining through the bottom of the door. Her head felt as though it were full of lead and even the slightest movement was uncomfortable.

Where was she? What happened? Did she survive the storm?

She lifted herself off the cluttered closet floor and tried the door. It wouldn't budge. She tried once more and concluded her displaced bed barred her from escaping.

She gave a hard shove and heard the bed groan. One more heavy shove and the door opened enough for her to climb out.

Her room was in shambles. Pictures, books and clothes covered the floor. She checked herself to make sure she wasn't in the same condition her bedroom was. A large tear in her favorite button up was the only damage she could find.

She guessed it happened while leaping over the porch railing.

She looked around and grabbed the closest shirt she could find; a blue and white gingham button up. Dorothy re-dressed herself and treaded carefully over her scattered belongings into the hall.

The rest of the house looked like her room with the addition of shattered glass and yard debris.

Dorothy contained a gasp at the sight of her home. A thought struck her, it was daytime out. How long had she been unconscious in the closet?

"Gran! Gramps!" she belted.

Silence.

Dorothy felt awkward standing in the middle of what used to be her living room and suddenly remembered, "The animals."

She kicked a few couch cushions aside and headed for the door.

What she was met with the was more shocking than her destroyed home. Instead of her familiar front yard was the broad spread of a town. Thatched roof structures in all sizes sat in rows with smoke rising from their chimney tops. A large wall formed it's border, running from one end to another. An ancient looking gate stood closed. It's strong wooden doors barring anyone from entering or exiting. In the distance she could spot snow capped mountains that seemed to stretch for miles. Splintered boards, fence posts, and other farm debris all brought here by the tornado, littered it's empty streets.

"What the hell…" She muttered in disbelief. Instinctively she began backing up into the house. Her hand was on the screen door when she heard,

"Not another step." A stern voice commanded her.

Dorothy jerked her head to the right of the porch. A somewhat short man in a red leather uniform and cap stood aiming some sort of rifle-like weapon at her.

"Who are you? Where do you come from?" He interrogated her nervously.

Dorothy automatically raised her hands to show she meant no harm.

"Uh, I am Dorothy Gale, from Kansas." Her voice trembled slightly at the sight of the obviously hostile and man.

"H-how did you get here?"

Dorothy glanced around, hoping to find the answer she didn't have.

"Listen, I have no idea where I am or how I got here. The last thing I remember was the tornado and—"

Her concentration was broken by the sudden appearance of people. They poured out of hiding places, cautiously converging at the crash site. Each one wore a unique style of clothing. Straw hats, long coats, vests, and bonnets made up some of the attire of the people. But as much as they were all different, they matched in one way; the colors blue and white.

Dorothy watched as the peculiar crowd grew.

"Come down here." A gun was still pointed at her.

Unsure of the amount of control the man had over his own weapon, she hesitantly descended the stairs, not taking her eyes from him.

The people in the crowd whispered amongst themselves.

"Is she a witch?" Dorothy heard one woman say to another.

"Surely she is Munchkinlander, look how she wears our colors." A man said pointing out her blue gingham shirt.

"_Witch? Munchkinlander?"_ Dorothy asked herself.

Several other men dressed like her captor pushed through the crowd which had now grown exponentially.

"Report." One of them ordered their comrade.

"She emerged from the house, Sir. I drew my rifle when she tried to escape back inside."

"I was not trying to escape." Dorothy interjected offended.

"Where do you hail from?" The man who seemed to be in charge asked.

"This again?" she sighed.

"She is Doro—"

"MY name is Dorothy Gale," she interrupted, "I come from Clifton, Kansas… USA."

She was unsure if she really needed to add the 'USA' part but it felt right.

The head guard rested his rifle over his shoulder and grabbed Dorothy by the arm.

"Dorothy Gale, you are hereby under arrest for the crime of trespassing. By present order of her Excellency, Nessarose the wicked."

Dorothy pulled her arm away from the man.

"You have to be joking. Trespassing?" She chortled.

"It's the law." He said, forcefully taking another grip on her arm.

He pulled Dorothy into the crowd but before they could get any further, one of the guards called out loudly.

"Sir! Sir! Over here!" A man appeared from the east end of the house.

The head guardsman glanced at his prisoner and ordered one of his men to see what the commotion was about. He wasn't gone but a few moments when he came back out of breath and wide-eyed.

"Well, what is it?" He barked.

"Her Excellency, The wicked witch… she's dead."

A loud collective gasp burst from the crowd and the people began rushing over to the scene. Dorothy was pulled and jerked through the sea of people until she could see what was generating such hysteria.

She drew her hand over her gapping mouth in shock.

There, protruding out from under the damaged remains of her home, were two bloody and broken legs.

"Oh. God."

The head guard loosened his grip on Dorothy's arm as he stared at the bloody appendages in awe.

"She has killed her, She has killed Nessarose the wicked!" An aging woman bellowed. The crowd rumbled with chatter.

Dorothy shot a frightened look at the guardsman.

"I didn't mean to! My house-it was the tornado!" she frantically explained.

"She must be an assassin!" A man cried.

"What?! No!" Dorothy protested.

The head guard who was now inspecting the bloody remains signaled to his men to apprehend Dorothy. Instinctively she began to run, knocking over one man as she pushed her way through the uproarious crowd.

"Stop her! She is an enemy of the state!" One of the guards yelled.

Dorothy shoved past people, glancing over her shoulder at her pursuers who were close behind.

She turned back, eager to increase the distance. But before she could, she collided with someone and fell backward onto the ground. Dazed, she looked up to see a tall woman hovering above her. Dorothy shaded her eyes from the midday sun and saw the woman offer her hand in assistance. Dorothy reached for it reluctantly and pulled herself up.

Several people in the crowd identified her as "Glinda" and spoke in hushed tones as if the mention of her name was forbidden. She stood tall for a woman. Dressed in what looked like white linen and leather garments, she resembled a Celtic goddess. A long dingy white mantle hung from her shoulders and gathered behind her. Long blond curls fell carelessly over a delicate and kind face that smiled when Dorothy got to her feet.

The men chasing Dorothy stopped in their tracks upon seeing the woman; who brushed Dorothy off and then shifted her eyes to the men.

"What is going on here?" Her tone was stern and powerful.

"That girl, she is an enemy of the state." One of them explained. He pointed accusingly in Dorothy's direction.

"Commanding officer Barr has ordered us to arrest her by present order of—"

Glinda scoffed at the man's words.

"Are you mad?"

The two men exchanged perplexed looks.

"But she has killed her Excellency, Nessarose." One of them reasoned.

"Precisely. Which makes the order absolutely ludicrous. This girl is your liberator you buffoon." The woman scolded the two men. Just then the head guard, Barr, appeared from the crowd of people. His body tensed as he stopped abruptly.

"M-Miss Glinda…", he stuttered, " please stand aside, that girl is under arrest." He motioned at her to back away from Dorothy.

"You do not give me orders, Barr. Cease this foolishness… or you will have me to deal with." Her face was serious and her gaze was unrelenting.

Dorothy shifted her eyes between the two nervously, almost certain there would be a fight.

Barr sneered and recognizing this wasn't an idle threat, signaled for his men to stand down.

"Move out men. The Witch of the South is overseeing this."

The dejected officer and his men shuffled past Dorothy and the witch. Each of them shooting angered glares in Dorothy's direction causing her to draw her attention elsewhere.

"Do not wander far", Glinda called back to Barr and his men, "Elphaba, will wish to speak to you."

"As you command, Glinda the _good_." Barr replied mockingly.

Glinda huffed and turned back to the crowd of people.

"As for the rest of you, get to your homes. The witch of the west will be arriving shortly to help me attend to matters." The woman ordered the onlookers.

The crowd immediately began to disperse almost as quickly as it formed. Several people stopped to kiss Dorothy's hand, much to her bewilderment. She could see several people were misty eyed and smiling widely.

"Lurlina's blessings upon you." A man offered gratefully. He bowed politely before following the others back to town.

Dorothy ran a hand trough her hair and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"They are very grateful to you." Glinda said.

"I gathered that." Dorothy replied, wiping her hand on the back of her jeans.

"And what is your name, if I may ask?"

Dorothy was surprised to hear her ask this considering some people were chanting it earlier.

"Dorothy Gale." She responded tiredly.

"I am Glinda. Also known as The Witch of the South. Though you may already know that." She tugged at her mantle so as not to trip on it and headed for crash site with Dorothy following behind.

"Well, Glinda, would you mind if I asked where I am?" Dorothy eagerly inquired.

"My dear you are in what is called Munchkinland. Just one of many realms of the ancient land of Oz."

Dorothy stopped and looked at Glinda questioningly.

"Oz?"

"Yes, I am afraid you are not in Kansas anymore." She said apologetically.

Glinda's words faded as she came upon the wicked Witch's remains.

The legs were clad in torn and bloodied leather. They were badly broken and grotesque looking. Dorothy tried to look away but human curiosity got the best of her.

Glinda knelt down to take a closer much to Dorothy's surprise.

"This is where they got you, Nessa…" she said sadly.

Dorothy noticed the mournful tone and felt as though she must apologize.

"Believe me, it was an accident. The twister it—"

"Dorothy," Glinda stopped her, "it isn't necessary to apologize when you've stopped a terrible person; even if it was unintentional."

Dorothy was a bit taken back by this.

"Who was she? Why was she so terrible?"

Glinda turned back to the remains.

"That was Nessarose of the East; known to many here as The Wicked Witch of the East. And those," Glinda pointed to the dead witch's feet, "are what she used to enslave all of Munchkinland."

There on Nessarose's feet, amongst the carnage, sat a pair of shining, silver boots. Dorothy cocked her head as she had not noticed them until Glinda pointed them out.

They were mid-calve length and fastened on the sides by six straps with silver filigree buckles. The material they were made of was foreign looking but had a texture much like animal hide. They shined in the sunlight, completely unharmed by the crash.

"Wait. She used shoes to conquer Munchkinland?" There was a touch of sarcasm in this.

Glinda tucked her hands behind her.

"These boots are nothing to laugh at. They are weapons, and powerful ones at that. And now that she's dead.. a war is on the way."

Dorothy's eyes quickly widened.

"What?"

Glinda looked at the girl almost offended. She took a few steps toward her.

"Dorothy, these boots are one of the most coveted items in Oz. They allow a person to amplify their power immensely." Glinda's voice suddenly grew dark then. "Now that Nessa is dead, many will be coming after these boots and one in particular comes to mind."

Dorothy felt terrible for coming off the least bit insufferable and apologized.

"Glinda, I didn't mean to make light of the situation. But you need to understand that this is all very strange from my perspective."

Glinda smiled knowing the girl was confused and meant no harm. In fact she admired the girl's composure throughout the ordeal.

All of the sudden a churning gust of wind traveled down from the sky causing Dorothy to shield her eyes from dust. A large murder of crows swooped down into the town, traversing through the streets and to the site of the crash.

Dorothy jumped back in astonishment as the crows dispersed in a cloud of feathers and caws to reveal a woman in a black hooded cloak.

She flipped the hood back and summoning a gasp from Dorothy. The woman's complexion was jade green. Her hair was black as onyx and shined brightly in the sun. She bore a grim expression, emphasized by sharp features. Her thin frame was clad in black garments that laced up the front and formed an open skirt of sorts at the bottom. Somehow the woman held an unconventional beauty. A sharp sound escaped her boots when she walked across the stony pathway, sending a chill through Dorothy.

"Hello, Glinda." She greeted, approaching the two.

"Good to see you, Elphaba." Glinda took the green witch's hand and squeezed it, forcing a small smile from Elphaba

"This is Dorothy Gale of Kansas." Glinda gestured to Dorothy who was trying not to stare at Elphaba's skin color.

The smile disappeared from Elphaba's face as she looked over the girl.

"Are you a witch?" She asked.

Dorothy shook her head adamantly for fear the witch would attack her otherwise.

"A storm brought her here. A cyclone I believe she said." Glinda added.

Dorothy nodded, "Yes. That's correct", she assured Elphaba. It was important she knew none of this was intentional.

"You have nothing to fear, Miss Gale. The Munchkinlanders weren't the only one's freed by my sister's demise; you freed her as well."

"Y-y-your sister?" Dorothy gulped.

"Nessarose and Elphaba were sisters Dorothy. I'm sorry I failed to mention that." Glinda interjected.

Dorothy's stomach knotted furiously.

"I am so sorry!" she blurted out, "Please forgive me, I had no idea any of this would happen."

Dorothy threw herself at the mercy of the dead witch's sister.

"Miss Gale, my sister died long before you arrived. I mourned her death years ago. The woman under that house is a stranger." Elphaba assured the near hysterical girl.

Despite Elphaba's assurance that she was not at fault, Dorothy couldn't help but feel so. The cavalier reaction by the dead woman's sister didn't help either.

"And the boots?" Elphaba changed the subject.

"Untouched," Glinda guided her friend over to the wreckage, "I wanted to wait until you arrived to decide on what we should do."

"What of Beltania?" Elphaba asked, crouching down to examine the boots.

"I've sent word but have not heard from her. She did say she would be handling business far north so it's not surprising."

"What in Oz is she doing in the Northern Ruins?" Elphaba wondered aloud.

"Who is Beltania?" Dorothy asked intrigued.

"Beltania is a fellow witch and resistance leader." Elphaba explained.

This was the first Dorothy heard mention of the words 'Resistance Leader'.

"If I knew Nessarose, there will be a powerful binding spell protecting these boots. It will take all of our magic to remove them." Glinda theorized.

Elphaba waved her green hand over the boots. A sudden burst of energy exploded from the boots when her hand came into contact with them. The three women jumped back in alarm.

"You knew Nessa well." Elphaba grimly joked with Glinda.

"Where do we go from here?" Glinda inquired of her friend.

Elphaba brushed her hands off and stood up.

"Well, we have no choice but to wait for word from Beltania or her sudden appearance as she tends to do." She said, mildly irritated.

Elphaba looked over to Dorothy who was inspecting the area around her house like a driver who was just in an accident.

"I think we should speak in private," She suggested. Glinda nodded and gestured for her to lead the way.

Dorothy was mourning her poor house and all the work her grandfather did maintaining it. She fought back tears seeing it in this state. It was several minutes before she realized Glinda and Elphaba sneaked away for a private conversation. Feeling very awkward being left alone with a corpse, she decided to take a seat on what used to be her porch. Sitting down, she watched as Glinda and Elphaba conversed a few yards away and could only imagine what they were talking about now. Were dragons going to attack? Was someone else going fall out of the sky and squish them too? Maybe werewolves and vampires were about to ride in on unicorns, ready to do battle. At this point she didn't know what to expect. None of it made sense to her as she went over it in her head. And she was coming to the conclusion that she was suffering from some sort of nervous breakdown. That made more sense than witches and magical shoes.

As Dorothy pondered her situation she began to feel a very odd sensation. It started at her toes and worked its way up to her legs. It felt as though hot and cool water was being splashed at them while thousands of fingers tickled her feet.

"Now what…" she exasperatedly sighed; thinking she may be in the middle of having a stroke.

She looked down to see the cause of it all and her mouth dropped.

There on her feet were not her old beat up canvas shoes but the silver boots of The Wicked Witch of the East. They sparkled and shined as if they had been there all along.

Dorothy jerked her head up and glanced wildly.

"Uh… shit."

She desperately pulled at the small buckles but they wouldn't budge. She watched as Glinda and Elphaba continue to talk in the distance.

"Come off." She demanded the shoes as she tried prying the right one off with her left foot.

They didn't hurt her feet. That wasn't the problem. In fact they were the most comfortable shoes she'd ever worn. Dorothy pushed that thought out of her mind as she worked at the boots, terrified of what the two witches might do to her.

Pulling and tugging with every ounce of strength in her, the shoes still remained. She huffed and grunted as she continued to struggle not seeing Glinda and Elphaba strolling over to her.

Dorothy squeezed her eyes shut as if that would help the cause but it was useless. She dropped her head into her lap and panted heavily. Gradually she could feel heavy gazes upon her almost burning her skin. Dorothy lifted her head to find the two witches staring at her with ghostly, blank, faces.

"Are those… the boots?" Glinda muttered.

Dorothy gulped.

"Yes?"

"Well take them off!" Elphaba exploded.

"I tried!" Dorothy exclaimed, tugging at the boots once more.

Elphaba threw back her mantle and stomped over to the porch. Glinda stood there in bewilderment.

Elphaba scrutinized Dorothy's foot. Inspecting every inch and every buckle.

"Impossible!", she spat. And dropped Dorothy's foot causing her to wince a little.

By this time Glinda and snapped out of her daze and joined the two. She too inspected the boots and came to the same conclusion, they were one hundred percent real.

"You said—"

Elphaba glanced around before she continued. She could see they were again drawing attention to the crash site. Without hesitation she grabbed Dorothy by the arm and pulled her into the sanctity of the house. Glinda hurried up the porch stairs and followed them inside.

"You said you were not a Witch." Elphaba continued.

"I'm not!" Dorothy swore, headed for what used to be the living room.

"Then how did those Boots find their way onto your feet?"

The green skinned witch was almost in Dorothy's face

"I can't explain it. Just like I can't explain how I ended up here."

Glinda was pacing the room scattering debris and crushing the already broken glass on the floor.

"Only a witch could have done that." Elphaba pointed at the boots menacingly.

"Listen, even if I were a witch—which I'm not—what makes you think I could do what would have taken three of you to do… in a span of five minutes no less!", Dorothy shouted throwing her hands in the air.

Elphaba stood quiet for a moment as Dorothy brushed some plaster and wood off the sofa and plopped down.

"She is right Elphie. Dorothy could not have done it." Glinda said placing a hand on her shoulder.

Elphaba stared at the boots with burning eyes.

"How are we to know who she is or where she comes from. For all we know, she could be a thief sent by _him_." She said accusingly. Rationality had seemed to have left her body altogether.

Dorothy sighed heavily. She had enough.

"Listen Lady," she pulled herself up from the couch, "I have no idea where I am. My house looks like someone detonated a bomb inside of it and my grandparents are probably wondering whether I am a alive or dead. Now if you're going to stand here and continue accusing me of things I haven't done, then you better be able to back it up because I went to public school for eleven years, I know how to fight, and I won't hesitate to lay you out right here on the braided rug."

Dorothy clenched her fists, looking Elphaba dead straight in the eyes. She was through playing nice and apologizing for something that was out of her control. She wasn't about to let Elphaba walk all over her in her own home, or what was left of it for that matter.

Dorothy ran a hand through her hair frustrated and took her seat again. Glinda watched in anticipation, wondering if she would have to pull the two of them off of one another at any moment.

Elphaba cleared her throat and adjusted her mantle embarrassed.

"I cannot understand what this must be like for you. I apologize for my behavior.", She offered.

Dorothy looked up, "Apology accepted." She felt somewhat embarrassed for acting so hostile, but she stood by what she said. Who would defend her if no one else would?

"You have to know what those boots mean to Glinda and myself. They are the one weapon we have that can help us take back our land." Elphaba explained.

Dorothy nodded understandingly.

"I know. Glinda made that clear to me. But what I don't understand is who? Nessarose is gone, who else is left?" Dorothy asked.

Elphaba looked to Glinda.

"She is more a part of this now than ever before," she said.

Glinda stepped carefully through the rubble and stood next to Dorothy.

"He's called The Wizard. He currently sits on the throne in the Emerald city and is behind some of the most horrific events in Oz."

"Leading a coup against the rightful ruler of Oz, Ozma, he stole the throne for himself. He's killed many and continues to do so. His power is broad and sweeping, he is the one we're fighting against." Elphaba chimed in.

"So, he's some sort of dictator?" Dorothy asked.

Elphaba answered with a nod.

"And if he gets the boots—"

"It's over." Glinda concluded.

Dorothy thought for a moment and then continued apprehensively.

"And if he finds me with the boots?"

"He will kill you."

Elphaba's words were like an blow to the stomach. It was then Dorothy realized how involved she now was in the turmoil of Oz and its people.

"This is why we must take you some place safe. Elphaba and myself had arranged to take you north with Beltania. But now…" Glinda trailed off.

Dorothy seemed deep in thought. The revelation of how much danger she was in set her into defense mode.

"So, we are sure that The Wizard probably knows about Nessarose or will soon, correct?"

Glinda nodded.

"He has spies everywhere. They are probably half way to the Emerald city by now."

"And I'm sure he knows how protective she was of the boots; using magic to bind them to her, even in death, correct?"

Elphaba gestured hastily for Dorothy to get to the point.

"Well, as far as he knows the boots are still on her. I couldn't have taken them, a Munchkinlander couldn't have taken them, hell, he himself couldn't take them without extracting the entire body."

Glinda's eye's brightened.

"The binding spell. Of course," she said, having a sudden revelation.

Dorothy cheerfully nodded.

"Nessarose's paranoia is our saving grace."

"And what do you propose we do when he arrives with an army to take his prize?" Elphaba scoffed.

"What The Wizard won't know, won't hurt him…" Dorothy hinted.

Elphaba smirked.

"A Dummy pair."

"Exactly. He takes the duds allowing us time to figure out how to remove the boots, giving you two the power you need to stop him." Dorothy surmised.

Glinda wrung her hands anxiously.

"What do you think, Elphie?"

"There is a chance it could fail, but it's a chance I'm willing to take."

Dorothy smiled widely, finally feeling useful and in control for the first time since arriving in Oz.

"Dorothy, we need a mirror. This being your house, I trust you know where to find one."

Dorothy nodded and jumped up from her seat.

"We'll need a pair of old shoes as well Dorothy." Glinda added.

Dorothy set out to find the shoes and mirror. Glinda and Elphaba began clearing a space to perform the spell. They each kicked away debris and moved overturned furniture.

Dorothy ran into the bathroom; the only place she knew a mirror would be in one piece in the wrecked house. Sure enough, the medicine cabinet mirror sat shut in immaculate condition. Dorothy opened it up, gripped it tightly, and in one heavy jerk, ripped the mirror from its hinges. She breathed huffed, amazed at her own strength.

Mirror in hand, she climbed over spilled contents of the hall closet, and into her room. She pushed the bed out of the way and began to dig madly through her closet. Most of what hung in her closet now sat in a large colorful pile on the floor. She tossed several tee-shirts over her head as she found what she was looking for; a pair of old miserable looking boots. A pair of shoes she had used many times when helping her grandparents in the yard. Tucking the boots under her arm, she picked herself up and hurried back to the living room. She was Eager to see what would be taking place soon.

The floor was surprisingly clean. The two witches had cleared it in no time and now stood to the side, speaking in soft voices. A long, crooked, broom with stiff brown bristles was clutched in Elphaba's hand green hand. Dorothy furrowed her brow confused by the sudden appearance of it. These witches were full of surprises.

"I hope these work." she said, she stared curiously at the broom.

Glinda took the mirror from Dorothy as Elphaba examined the boots.

"These will work nicely." She said confidently. It was the first time her voice was somewhat cheerful upon meeting Dorothy.

Elphaba turned to the clear space on the floor. She set the boots down and with the bristles of the broom, began tracing an archaic symbol across the wood surface. She closed her eyes as her lips mouthed words that Dorothy could barely make out. They seemed to echo softly across the house, bouncing off the walls and finding their way back to her ears.

Glinda watched Elphaba, being a witch herself, this was nothing new to her. She held the mirror and waited for her friend to finish.

A few seconds more passed and Elphaba pulled her broom back. She held an open green hand over the floor and then suddenly clenched it shut. No sooner had she done that did the symbol on the floor begin to glow a bright green.

Dorothy's eyes widened in awe.

Glinda walked across the floor and placed the mirror in the center of the symbol. Elphaba followed with the old boots and placed them gently on the glassy, reflective surface.

The two witches raised their arms, and softly began to chant.

The room pulsed with each syllable. Magic traveled through every beam and rafter like blood through a vein. Imperfections in the papered walls and polished wood floors glowed ancient green. The whole house seemed to come to life. It was almost as if it would begin to move and breath at any moment.

Shaken, Dorothy stumbled back, catching her balance with the back of the sofa. She was witnessing something she had only read about in books or seen in movies.

The two women continued their chanting in harmony with one another.

Soon enough, the reflection of the old boots began to fade and it's place, the reflection of the silver boots.

Dorothy thought at any moment she would see the old leather be replaced by glimmering silver, but much to her surprise the boots didn't disappear. The room grew quiet and suddenly began to shift. She gripped the sofa tightly and squeezed her eyes shut. Her legs slowly began to fall out from underneath her until she was sure she was hanging upside down. Her stomach turned and she felt queasy. Then, all at once, everything snapped back into place. She felt a slight thud and she slowly opened her eyes, quiet sure that the house had been picked up by a tornado once again. A quick glance around the room revealed it's sad messy state and the two witches standing over the mirror. Dorothy picked herself up, and brushed stray strands of hair from her face.

"Did it work?" She asked somewhat nauseated.

Elphaba-looking quite pleased-pointed a slender green finger at the mirror. Dorothy followed Elphaba's finger down to see two silver shoes, just as the ones on her feet. Their reflection was now replaced with that of the old brown boots, spell-cast into another world.

"As long as the mirror is kept safe, the shoes shall remain in their glamoured state." Elphaba informed the young girl.

Glinda picked up the dummy shoes and examined them.

"It truly is amazing" she marveled. "If I didn't know any better, I would think I had the genuine pair right here."

Elphaba nodded in agreement and held up her hand as if to keep Glinda from saying anymore.

"And that is what we need people to think."

"How will we get them on her" Dorothy spoke up.

"That is the simple part." Glinda advised.

She shut her eyes, stretched the boots out in front of her and whispered softly in an ethereal voice.

Dorothy watched as the dummy shoes sparkled and then vanished suddenly.

"There. As if nothing ever happened." Glinda said as she dusted her hands off.

"That's it?" Dorothy asked, expecting something just as elaborate as what she witnessed a few moments before.

"Now, to make this work we must treat those boots like the ones on Dorothy's feet. I will speak with what is left of Nessa's regime and have her body removed for safe keeping. The longer we keep The Wizard from the remains, the more time we will have to remove the boots from Dorothy." Elphaba said in a hushed tone.

"I'll transport her body back to the west. Hopefully that will buy us some more time."

"Are you certain?" Glinda questioned.

"Time will tell."

Elphaba picked up the enchanted mirror and handed it to Dorothy.

"Guard this. Glinda will find a place to keep it hidden."

Dorothy nodded, "of course." She picked up a torn drape began wrapping it around the mirror.

"You will stay safe?" Elphaba asked her friend.

"As will you?" Glinda countered.

The two witches hugged briefly and Elphaba, broom in hand, headed for the door. Before she leaving she looked over to Dorothy who was clutching the mirror.

"You are a clever girl, Dorothy Gale. Oz needs more of your kind." And with that, she was gone.

"Treasure it," Glinda spoke of her friend, "She rarely grants compliments."

"Not hard to imagine." Dorothy said.

Glinda smirked and adjusted her mantle.

"And now we must get you some place safe."

"Have you thought of a place?" Dorothy asked, still clutching the mirror.

"Yes. A place The Wizard is unaware exists. She is a dear friend and will take very good care of you. Her name is Angeline. But most know her as 'The patchwork girl'."


End file.
